New FrUk Relationship
by Fellest
Summary: When England turns himself into a boy again, France is there to look after him, but trouble remains when the two become a little TOO close to one another. T for language and a parcial sex scene... A short, meme request from LJ.
1. Arthur's Youth

Relationships formed in Youth: Part 1

[France x England]

France just stared at him, eyes wide in shock as he saw chibi England scowling up at him from the ground. This is NOT what the Frenchman had in mind when he went to England's place that day. He was hoping to form a new relationship with the tea-totting alcoholic, not stare down the mini version of him.

The little Englishman blushed and yelled, "What are you doing here, France? Can't you see I'm busy?"

France knelt down and asked, still in the state of shock, "What happened _Angleterre_?"

The Englishman looked away and said, "If you must know, I was trying out a new spell, to make America young again, but it backfired and… well…"

"Oh, _mon cherí petite lapin,_ you poor thing. Do you know how to turn yourself back?"

"I don't need pity from you!" The boy growled, "I designed the spell so that it WASN'T reversible, so that America COULDN'T be an adult again! And anyway: why are you here frog?"

France cupped the boy's face with his hands and said, gently, "I'm here about what we talked about last week. My president still wants to open better diplomatic relations with Great Britain, you know. That's why I'm here."

England looked at him for moment, contemplating, and then said, with a pout, "Well it's a bit hard, considering I'm now a child, you know. Going to take me over, you wine freak—"

He was cut off when two arms circled around his small formed and he was hoisted into the air. France held him in his arms and said, "Well then, I'll just have to take care of you till you turn back; okay?"

"What! No, France!" England tried to push away, but stopped when he almost fell out of France's grasps. He sighed and snuggled into the Frenchman's chest. "Do what you want, France…"

*****

England hate to admit it, but France could be really nurturing, when he wanted to.

The boy suffered a bout of déjà vu as France led him down the hall, to his storage room. Opening it, he turned to the boy and asked, "Do you have any of your clothes from when you were younger?"

England thought and then shook his head, "I have, but I don't know where they are. I know where the clothes from when America was here."

France switched on the light and tried not to inhaul as he looked at the dust covered room. "You sure like your stuff: when was the last time you cleaned this room?"

England kicked him in the shin and said, "Shut-up! Just help me find America's old clothes!"

With a sigh, France began looking through un-marked boxes, with England climbing over everything, trying to reach the back boxes. After an hour of coughing and looking, France made England wait at the door; scared he might catch something with all the dust in the room.

Going through a box marked "British Columbia", France lifted up a white dress-shirt with a red tie on top. He held it up to England and asked, "What about this? Looks like your size."

England looked at it and said, "That's not America's, and he didn't wear one with a red tie. Hey wait that's… that is, thingy… what's his name?"

"You mean Canada?"

"Yeah him, give it over—"

"What do you say, _mon ami_?"

England glared at him, eye twitching, but succumbed, "Okay, okay… PLEASE may I have it?"

France smiled and handed the clothing over. Just as England went to grab it, France pulled it away again and said, "But first, I have to give you a bath. You're filthy, and I'm not letting you wear this nice shirt and put dust all over it!"

"But, France—"

"And if you want," France winked at him, "I can go in with you, to make sure you're washed properly. Okay, _mon petit_?"

England looked at him, or rather glared, but sucked it in and nodded, letting the Frenchman carry him to the bathroom. When they got there, France put him down and said, "Go get undressed while I go and wash this shirt: it's all dusty after being in that box for so long."

England shrugged, watching the man leave, shutting the door behind him. He threw off his baggy clothes and ran up to the bath and stopped: shivering, he reliesed that he couldn't reach the taps. Pulling a towel down from the rack, he yelled out, "France!"

He waited a moment, and then the door opened, France stepping through. He bent down and asked, a sober look upon his face, "What is it, _Angleterre_?"

England blushed and explained, "I'm sorry, I can't reach the taps."

France smiled and said, "Okay, I'll put you in." So picked up the boy, who dropped the towel, and placed him in the bath; switching on the taps. He ruffled the boy's hair and said, "I'll be back soon, after I've cleaned that shirt and found something for me. Okay, _petit lapin_?"

England nodded as France left. He began splashing water onto himself as it came into the bath slowly. After ten minutes, he started to become nervous when the water almost reached the top of the bath tub. He shivered and yelled out, "France!"

He couldn't hear anything. "France!"

He went over and tried to turn the water off. It was surprisingly hard for someone his size. He yelled out to France again, trying to hold back his tears. He tried one more time, but a hand over his switched it off. He turned and looked up at France, who bent down and asked, a soft smile across his face, "_Angleterre,_ are you okay _chéri_?"

France moved a tear out of the boy's eye as he sobbed, "You took so long, and I didn't want the tub to over flow. I yelled for you three times, France…"

The Frenchman chuckled and held the boy's head to his chest, getting his shirt wet. "My poor _lapin,_ I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. I'm here _now_ though, so no more crying, okay?"

England pulled away and said, clutching his little fists, "I'm not crying!"

France laughed again, taking his clothes off. "Oh yes, I can see that _Angleterre._"

He dipped into the bath and sat in front of England, who was pouting at him. He stretched out his hands to the boy and said, "Come here, I want to wash you."

"Pervert…"

"I promise I won't pull anything, _lapin doux._"

England blushed at this and stuttered, "Wha- hey, don't… don't call me that!"

England paused for a moment, before stepping forward, into the Frenchman's arms. France chuckled again and said, "Don't you like your new nickname. You always called America and Canada that… Alright, here's the soap, you can wash yourself."

The boy took the bar of soap, scowled up at France then began washing himself. France turned him around, so that the boy was looking away, and began splashing water onto his hair. When England finished, he placed the soap back, on the other side of the tub, and returned to France's lap. The Frenchman kissed him on the head and asked, "Do you want me to wash your hair, _lapin doux_?"

The Englishman simply nodded. France began soaping his head up with shampoo, running his fingers through the boy's hair gently. When he finished massaging the hair, he began rinsing it out, cupping water in his hands and splashing it over the boy. France turned the boy around, kissed him on the nose and asked, "How are you feeling?"

The boy thought and then bit his bottom lip, trying to hold in his tears. "France… Am I… Am I, going to stay like this forever?"

France was stared at, shocked by the question. He cupped the boy's chin with one hand and removed a falling tear drop with the other. "_England,_ this is your spell… don't you know how to reverse it or anything?" England shook his head, moving to rest on France, his head nuzzling the man's chest. "Oh _England…_ I'm sure you'll be normal soon, and even if you're not, I promise I will look after you, _chéri._"

"Really France?" asked England, looking up with bit eyes.

France nodded. "I won't let anything hurt you, _Arthur…_"

When they were done and out, France placed a woolly towel over the boy and said, "I'm going to go get your shirt, stay here, okay? I won't be long this time, promise…"

England smiled and nodded, watching France, with a towel over his mid section, walk out the door; this time, he left it opened, just in case England needed him. The Englishman sighed, sitting on the ground and waited patiently. After ten minutes of sitting and sighing, France eventually came back into the room wearing one of England's plain shirts, with a brown vest over it, and black pants. The boy didn't comment, wanting the shirt before he caught a cold.

France knelt down and handed him the clean shirt. "There: all clean and _hopefully_ dried, _mon petit._"

The boy took it, dropped the towel again, and slipped it over his shirt. Shaking his, still wet, hair, he looked up at France and smiled, "It's warm, did you put it in the dryer?"

The Frenchman wiped some of the water from his face, picked up the towel and placed it onto the boy's head again. "You need to dry your hair or else you'll catch a cold, _Angleterre._"

England shrugged, letting the Frenchman pull him into his lap again. France ruffled the hair with the towel, asking every so often if he was being too rough.

"No… it's, it's okay. It feels kind of… kind of—"

"Do you like this, _bonbon_?" France asked, kissing the boy's head.

England blushed and tried to wiggle away. "You pervert; let go, I can—"

France pulled him back and chuckled, "You know I was just being a bully. _Mon Angleterre,_ calm down and relax so that you can think about how to change yourself back again."

England sighed and leaned back into France's grasps, letting him run the towel through his hair, and then his fingers, neatening it out. France wrapped his arms around him and asked, "This spell, _mon amour_: you won't be young forever, will you?"

The boy sighed, his eyes becoming heavy. A growl brought them out of the sober situation. France smiled down and asked, "Are you hungry, _Angleterre?_" Arthur elbowed him.

France left England in the dinning room, as he proceeded into the kitchen. England scold at this, wanting to help – youth or not, he wouldn't be helping regardless! He watched the Frenchman turn, just before going into the kitchen, and winked, "I'll make you something nice, okay?"

Before England could respond, the man disappeared. The boy got up onto the table and ran across it, straining to hear France in the kitchen. He sat there, cross-legged and bored out his mind. There was a chair a little from where he was, so he crawled towards it. England dangled his leg over the side of the table, trying to pull the chair closer. With a grunt, he moved his other leg over, hoping to get even closer. There was a large thump: that's when he reliesed he knocked it over, somehow.

"Damn it!" he said softly, trying to pull himself back up onto the table. He froze: he couldn't get back up, he was too weak and too much of his body was dangling over the edge. He held his breath and tried to pull himself up.

The boy bit his lip trying to resist crying, when two arms wrapped themselves around his waist. He kicked a little at the person before giving in. France asked, turning the boy around so that they were chest to chest, "What are you doing, _Arthur_?"

England looked away and blushed, "I wanted to go into the kitchen with you. I want to help!"

France chuckled lightly, laying a kiss on the boy's forehead, "_Mon petit,_ you can come and watch me, if you're bored."

England nodded his head and then blurted out, "But ONLY because I'm bored, and NOT because I want watch you cook or anything!"

France chuckled again. "If you say so…"

Dinner was ready within an hour. England munched into his food swiftly, as France looked on curiously. The boy looked up, after finishing his plate, and barked, "What are you looking at? Eat your own food, frog!"

The Frenchman smiled warmly and asked, "Are you full?"

England nodded, rubbing stomach. "Er… I think I ate too much—"

France leaned across the table, with his napkin, and wiped some crumbs from the side of England's mouth. The boy sat there, eyes wide at the man in front of him. When the Frenchman moved away, England stuttered, "Why… why are you doing this?"

France looked at him and smiled, grabbing their dishes. "I want to be closer. I know that you like Alfred, but… I really want to- I mean to say is…"

"I don't like Alfred!" The man looked at him. "I mean: not in that way! What is this really about?"

"Because I lo- I figured, we just needed a new union…"

"No you don't! What was the first thing you were going to say?" France looked at him, contemplating, before looking away and walking into the kitchen without a word.

England sighed, placing his small head onto his arms in front of him. He decided to wait, this time, for France to return. After ten minutes, he did, looking at a very tired England. He chuckled, picking the boy up. "It's past your bed time, isn't it?"

The boy wiped his eyes and muttered, "I'm not a kid, frog: I don't get tired so early."

"Yes, but you're a child now, and children get tired quicker then adults." He saw England's eye twitch. "If you want, I can go to bed with you—"

"Pervert!" And England kicked him in the gut.

France placed him on the ground and held his stomach. He said, "I know that you like me, _Angleterre,_ but not after dinner please…"

After sometime of fighting and hassle, France finally got England into bed and drew himself under the covers. He looked over at the boy, who was staring at him. "I don't need a babysitter, you know."

France ran his fingers through England's hair, drew in close and whispered, "Don't you like it when I look after you?"

"Well, I didn't say THAT exactly." A glint appears in his green eyes. "I am grateful, for your help… It's just that, this reminds me of when we were younger, you know. I want to know that I've grown up since then, France."

He was clutching France's shirt sleave. The Frenchman moved in so that their noses were touching; he could see a dribble of tears going down the kid's cheek. He kissed the tears away and said, lightly, "_Angleterre,_ everything changes, in time. Everything is always changing, both children AND adults. Even though you've tried so hard to keep your old values, you are different from when you were younger, even if it doesn't seem like it."

"Francois…" The boy nuzzled into the man's neck as the strong arms wrapped around him, bringing him closer. He lay there, lightly crying into France's shirt, his small fist clenched. After a moment, he wiped his eyes and looked up with a sober expression, "France, I'm sor—"

France had, lightly, pushed him onto his back and moved his lips on top of the boy's. It was soft and chaste, but such an action shocked the boy, even if England normally expected these things from the Frenchman. England lay there, wide eyed and frozen as France nipped his lips gently.

The man moved away and stared down at the boy. "_Arthur,_ I will look after you, even if you stay like this. That, I promise you because I lo—" He stopped.

"Francois, you keep saying that."

"Saying what?" England slapped him. Surprised, France looked down at the boy and flinched: the slap didn't hurt NEARLY as much as the pained face the boy was giving him, eyes welling up with tears again. France caressed the boy's cheek and smiled softly, "Do you want me to say that I love you?"

England thought for a moment before muttering, "If that's what you want to say…"

France smiled, whispering into his ear, "_I love you…"_ before giving him a peck on the cheek and falling asleep next to him. England watched him for a moment, watching the man's light hair falling over his face with every subtle movement caused by breath. The boy move a few locks out of the man's eyes before snuggling up next to him, drifting off as well.

The next morning, England woke-up with a start, feeling a cool breath on his neck. When he looked next to him, he saw France sleeping peacefully, his lips ajar. England sighed, remembering the unfortunate events of last night, that's when he looked down. He almost jumped out of the bed with what he saw: he was back to normal, naked!

England sighed, falling back onto the pillow, and looked back at France. After a moment of watching the sleeping beauty, he moved in closer, laying a peck on the cool lips, sighing, "What are we going to do now…"

_Author NOTE!_

_YES, finished it. This has been a rather random one because I tend to change the mood of a story depending on how I feel or what I'm listening to. I started to cliché, then random and confusing, to some what philosophical… Hopefully you haven't noticed too much :P_

_Hopefully, this doesn't seem too rushed!_

_The next part will be about their relationship as adults, so stick around for that ^_^_


	2. Formed in Love

Relationships formed in Youth: Part 2

[France x England]

England grabbed France's arm, just as he was about to leave.

He was still in bed, the blanket covering his - still - naked body. France was a little from the bed, facing away from his friend. Tears stained England's cheek as he asked, "Why are you leaving? I thought you said you loved me!"

With a sigh, France turned around and placed his hand over his new lover's. "I was here to ask for tighter bonds between our governments, and nothing else—"

"Francois!" The grip on the arm tightened slightly. With a sigh, France was able to move it off, though, and kissed the palm. He moved down to the wrist and stopped, looking down at England. "_Arthur,_ I don't think you know—"

England grabbed him and pushed him onto the bed. Before France could say anything else, England straddled his mid-section and pushed his lips onto the other man's, his hand landing on France's opened one. The Frenchman gave in and opened his mouth, allowing entrance for the England. The kiss was sloppy and emotional, and a little too long then should be, but he knew what England wanted to say.

The man on top moved away, trying to glare while catching his breath. He sobbed, "Francois… I… know it seems… please don't leave!"

France just stared up, and then burst into a chuckle, cupping England's cheek and stroking it with his thumb. "Oh, _mon lapin, mon petit lapin doux et précieux,_ have you fallen _amour_ with your dear big brother?"

England thought for a moment and then smiled, laying a kiss on his lover's lips. "We'll see what happens, Francois…"

Wrapping his arms around the man, France sat up and drew England into a passionate embrace, one hand on the small of the Englishman's back, the other running through his mattered hair. This time, it was slower, making England feel warmer then before. They snuck their tongues into each others mouths, taking in each other's scent and taste.

France drew away first, wiping his mouth. With a sigh, he wiped the Englishman's tears away with his hand, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow, at the meeting, okay?"

England nodded, getting off the man and placing himself back into bed. He looked away as France asked, "Do you want me to make breakfast for you before I go, _mon lapin doux_?"

England snickered, "Do what you want, Francois…"

The Englishman stayed in bed, facing away from the door. After a little while, just as he was about to drop of again, the enticing smell of meat, oil, and something sweet that he could exactly put his finger on, wafted through the door. He got up and rushed putting his clothes on, falling onto the bed numerous times just getting his pants on. When he got down stairs, France was laying out a plate full of food and a mug.

"Sit," said France, sternly, pointing at the seat he was near. England did as he was told, sitting in front of the plate covered in eggs, bacon, onion and two croissants. France poured him a cup of tea into the mug. England snickered, "An English breakfast with a French touch, I suppose…"

"I was going to make you something French," began France, sitting across from England, who started eating into the bacon and onion, "But I know how much you like that fatty, oil covered, breakfast of your's, so I made a compromise."

England chuckled, taking a sip from his tea. _Just the way he liked it._ He looked over at France, who was just watching him, seemingly deep in thought. He asked, "Aren't you going to eat something?"

France shook his head. "I'm going to leave soon, I'll eat something when I get back home…"

A hand clutched his arm again and he looked over at England, who shoved a piece of onion into his mouth, before moving his own over France's. Though it may not be one of the more romantic foods, the onion was sweet and soft, easy enough to move between the mouths. France moved it into England's who swallowed it, and pulled away.

France got up and kissed the Englishman on the cheek. "I'm sorry, I have to go, _Angleterre,_ but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

England nodded, watching the other man leave. He sunk into his chair, playing with his fork. With a cling, he threw onto the plate and dropped his head onto his arms, moaning, "_Why must I do this to myself…_"

*****

After, what seemed like forever, England strode into the conference room, taking a seat next to France, who winked and asked, "How was your night, _mon amour_?"

There seemed to be a small period of silence in the room, even though the rest of the nations were happily conversing with each other. Much to France's surprise, England smiled and said, "Too long for my liking. Did you get home alright?"

France nodded. "Ah, but it was lonely without my _petit lapin_ by my side again. Was it cold without me by your side, _Arthur_?"

England nodded, smiling cheerfully. "Yes, maybe you're right: we should tighten ties a bit. It gets so cold at home, maybe you should come over again tonight and warm up my bed…"

France resisted the urge to throw his head back and laugh, let alone throw himself at the Englishman. Instead, he chuckled, edging a little closer to England. He was about to say something, in return, when Alfred's booming voice was heard at the end of the table, indicating the beginning of the meeting. The two smiled at each other before returning their attention to America, who cocked an eyebrow before continuing.

The meeting was long, concerning the recent Afghanistan election with yet more rumours of sabotage and rigging about an election this year. When the meeting was over, England and France stayed in their seats, talking to one another.

Shuffling his papers, America nudged Canada next to him and nodded towards the talking couple. He asked, "Don't you think that's weird?"

Canada looked over and smiled. "I think it's nice that dad and papa are finally getting along. It was hard living in a broken family, Alfred."

The American snuffed at this, barging out the door as the two got up. Canada went over to them and asked, with a smiled, "What did you think of the meeting? Longer then usual, wasn't it?"

Canada braced himself a bit, waiting for France to throw himself at him, but he never did. Instead, his papa grinned and ruffled his hair cheerfully. "Yes it was, _mon petit fils mignon,_ and your brother's _latest_ conspiracy theories are driving me nuts. Am I right, _Arthur?_"

The Canadian was a little taken back at his papa's affectionate use of his dad's human name and even more surprised when England agreed with him, "Yes, well, I'm still pissed off with Iran claiming I had something to do with _their_ elections, bloody bastards…"

"Yes, why would you let Ahmadinejad return to power: his been causing nothing but trouble: with his Zionist, Western claims and trying to be the next nuclear state…" purred France, wrapping his arms around the Englishman's waist. England didn't resist as the Frenchman gave him a light kiss on the ear. Canada chuckled nervously and left the two before they got into anything else.

France caressed England's cheek and asked, with a sober expression, "Things have changed, haven't they?"

England nodded, leaning back into his lover. "You don't like me?"

"What are you saying?" asked France, playfully licking his cheek. "Of cause I like you. I love you, for that matter! Anyway, do you think we should leave and head back to the hotel? You can come back to my room…"

The Englishman chuckled, turned around and threw himself at France, wrapping his arms around his neck. Pressing their foreheads together, England gave him a peck on the lips and asked, "Do you think this is weird?"

"What?"

"Us: you and me… ever since that night…" England sighed, "Is this what you wanted? To become this close?"

France thought for a minute: it wasn't exactly what his boss wanted, but it was a secret desire he held deep within him. Cupping the other man's chin, France smiled and said, "There is nothing more I've ever wanted…"

He kissed England, softly, on the lips, and they left the room, side by side.

England threw his arms behind his head as the walk along the hall, moaning, "God, I don't know whose worse: the opposing government, journalist or other nations! They ALL bully Brown and I don't know why…"

"He is kind of boring—"

"Oh, shut-up frog… At least mine isn't a half-Hungarian whose only 100 kilogram's away from being Napoleon with an Italian fetish…"

"Touché, _mon amour_…" England looked over at the Frenchman, who smiled back snugly.

Australia turned from New Zealand to look at his big brother. He cocked an eyebrow, staring at the Franglo alliance. He nudged Canada, who was standing next to him silently, and asked, "What's big brother doing? I haven't seen him this cheery with France since DeGaulle left office and the United Kingdom was allowed into the EU."

"I think it's nice, they're finally getting along after all these years—"

"No! It's just plane weird, Matthew!" America swung an arm around his brother and began pulling him down. He whispered into the Canadian's ear, "Siblings don't get along, _Matthew…_"

Australia, who was shoved out of the way, gritted his teeth, thinking, _Where the fuck did he come from?_ He shoved the American away before telling Canada, "What ever, I just thought it was weird, brother."

He returned to his conversation with New Zealand and Indonesia, who just arrived, looking back every so often at the strange couple.

Germany, who was about to confront the Frenchman about his _latest_ comments, watched the two walk pass. He stepped forward, awkwardly, and cleared his throat. France and England turned. "Um, France… can I _put_ something to you?"

France smirked. "Oh, go on then."

Clearing his throat again, Germany was about to explain, but then glanced at England. "No, I'm sorry, I just reliesed I have to speak with Mr. Japan. Can I talk to you later?"

France shrugged, watching the German nod and then walk away with Austria. England chuckled, pushing his side into France's. In return, the Frenchman swung an arm over and dragged the Englishman out the oak doors, much to the curiosity of the other nations.

*****

The Englishman practically threw himself at the Frenchman as soon as they entered the room. France kicked the door shut, trying to lock it as England attacked his mouth savagely. They, steadily, stepped into the room, still lip-locked. France threw him onto the bed, shrugged off his coat, and then returned his assault onto the mouth again.

England snuck a hand into the Frenchman's pants, rubbing it against the _quickly_ growing arousal. France moaned, moving his own hand down England's body. With a flick of the wrist, he got the buckle undone and the pants were down. He was able to grab a feel (without being hit) as he slid the boxers and underwear down.

England sat up, trying to position himself better on the bed, while France kissed his thigh and legs. The Englishman chuckled, since France had reached his foot. "Fr- Francois, stooop, that tickles…"

"Ah, but you love it, _fils_…" France stopped, much to the despair of the Englishman. _Did I just call Arthur, son?_

"Francois, are you okay? Don't you want to do this anymore?" England, looking painfully adorable, looked down at him with concern.

France smiled, "Of cause I want to, it is you after all, _Angleterre_."

The Frenchman crawled up and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. As soon as they broke away, England pulled him back into a longer kiss. France caressed the side of his cheek, letting England sneak his tongue into his mouth. The Frenchman moved his mouth down, leaving a trail of saliva along the younger man's jaw, to come to a rest at the crook of the neck. France sucked and licked at it tenderly, smiling every time England moaned beneath him.

He undid the buttons on England's coat and shirt, licking every inch of exposed skin. England grabbed his hair and pulled the golden locks gently, causing a moan from the French nation. "Oh Francois, brother…"

France stopped, only an inch away from the naval. He sat up, rubbing the side of his face and muttered, "I can't do this anymore, not with you…"

"Huh, what do you mean?"

France looked at him with a hurt expression. He kissed his lover on the cheek and explained, "I'm so sorry Arthur: I love you so much, and this… it's like doing it with my brother…"

Swallowing, England asked, "I didn't think you cared about that sort of stuff."

France chuckled, circling his arms around England's waist, his head resting on the pale stomach. "I like Canada, but even I'm not that bad… And it's not like I hate you, quite the contrary—"

"Then what is it? Has this all changed for you as well?"

France looked up at the man, whose eyes began to glitter. He sat up, wiping the tears away with his thumb, before they could fall. The Frenchman licked it off before turning back to England, who was glaring at him. He chuckled and told his lover, "I know you're mad at me, _Angleterre_—"

"I'm not mad, just confused, I guess."

They stared at each other for a while. England gave in first, chuckling into the Frenchman's chest. "You know what: fuck this, FUCK everything!" He smiled up at France, "I don't give a shit what anyone thinks, not even you—"

"_Oui,_ but _Angleterre—_"

England threw himself at France, smashing their lips together. France smiled and let him, running his fingers up and down England's thigh. The Englishman rubbed up against him, both moaning in unison…

*****

France took a seat next to England. Without looking at each other, the World Meeting started. America cleared his throat and said, depressingly, "Before we start our meeting, could we – please – bow our heads for the loss of Ted Kennedy."

The whole room started to moan, some even saying, _"Why'd we have to, he has nothing to do with - _such-and-such - …"

France and England eyed each other and smiled, bowing their heads. After a minute, America's booming voice comes back and he yells out, "Okay, now the first order of business goes to Australia, who has a few issues with _another_ particular country. You HAVE the floor."

Australia sighed, standing up. He ruffled his papers, cleared his throat, and then proceed to throw his glass at North Korea. "You SON OF A BITCH! What do you THINK you're doing, using my ship to smuggle in weapons to Iran? I now have to deal with BLOODY SAUDI ARABIA because of you! FUCK!"

Alfred interjected, "Now, everyone calm down—"

"Oh, like you are Mr. Peace keeper, Mr. Australia. You are of no morals, like your—"

"Are you asking me to kick your arse?!"

"It would amuse me greatly for you to TRY!"

As the two 'bickered', France turned to England and asked, "You seem happy, even though you're brother is getting slandered?"

England chuckled, leaning back on his chest, and with its angle he was leaning closer to France. "Yes, well, it's about time he got a bit of backlash from something. This is better then when I beat him in _The Ashes_ this year."

"I heard it took you 29 years. Did he get lazy or something?"

Not caring about how people thought – anymore – England kissed him on the cheek and purred into his ear, "Strange, I've never been happier. You know what's even more overdue?"

"Our marriage?"

England looked away, still smirking. He placed a hand over France's and leaned onto his shoulder. The meeting went on in a similar manner, and the two wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else…

_Author NOTE!_

_Corny ending, I know._

_All right, I'm all done here, what do you think? If you want to know about some of the political ramblings I added (Such as the Ashes, the thing with North Korea and the one about the Iranian election, just review me and I'll add another chapter explaining it. They're kind of new, and some are region specific, so some of you might not know what I'm talking about._

_Hope you enjoyed the story as I did writing it ^_^_


	3. OMAKE

Relationships formed in Youth: Part 3

[France x England]

Notes:

_Okay, this is just a short chapter to clarify some of the events I've mentioned in the story. I'll do it by chapter since it's easier._

**Chapter 1:**

1. Apparently, President Sarkozy has tried to forge a closer alliance with Great Britain. So I had something to work on with the prompt I was given: _About France going to England's place to form closer ties, only to find a chibi!England there instead._

2. I don't remember much about Canada's history. The reason why I put him down as _British Columbia_ is because I thought England might've referred to him as that, back in the old days (Like how Australia was originally known as _New South Wales_ before it became a state). Looking at Wikipedia now, I'm pretty sure I'm wrong, but I'm too lazy to change it to _New France._

3. Don't ask about the _bonbon_ thing, it's just this random thing I found out (I know about the Christmas poppers, I just didn't know it was a French word. Smart, aren't I…) and haven't been bothered to take it out yet.

4. I just reliesed, England says _pervert_ a lot in this chapter. And yet, the only act of perversion, for France anyway, the Frenchman does is kiss the boy on the lips. Okay, that sounds kind of bad, but you know what I mean…

_Anyway, that's chapter one, now onto chapter two:_

**Chapter 2:**

1. Oh, and I tended for them to call each other by their human names cause I thought it would be more affectionate, and romantic, then just using their country names. Seeing as how human name's seem to be a personal type of thing in Hetalia (Even in the actual series/manga, the only one's who are called normally are the Italia brothers by people who care for them, like Spain and Romano to Feliciano).

2. Yeah, even though England (apparently) secretly likes France's cooking, I figured he'd be too stubborn to eat it, even if he WAS in love with the Frenchman. And I figured that France would know this, and being the OC character I usually write him as, would make a compromise for the one he loved. The English breakfast is good, it's just not that great in the mornings if you're someone like me who doesn't like a heavy breakfast ^_^

3. Oh, and yes, apparently the English are like the American's and like to soak their food in fat and oil, or something like that. I think he's been around America too long as well, since he's willing to have coffee in the morning ^_^

4. Some of you's may have heard: the Afghanistan elections were held not long ago. And for the second election this year (the first being Iran), there have been rumours of cheating and stuff. But what country doesn't? I had to live under a liberal government, so I'm not too happy about elections as it is :P

5. Yeah, I'm sorry: I'm more of a France x England fan then a UK x US one. I'm mean, I like American and England, but there are enough of those, I think, out there as it is, lols. But I added the possibility of a US x UK relationship in the story too, just to appease some of you, lols…

6. Now, getting back to the election thing: Iran had an election about a month or so ago. The thing is, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the previous President, got re-elected. Because of the up-roar in Iran, it is assumed that he cheated his way in again. And apparently, the Supreme Leader accused Gordon Brown, and England, of election tampering. I don't get why England would want to do that, since Ahmadinejad is seen as a DANGEROUS person to be in power: but anyway, that's why England was pissed off.

7. I'm kind of interested in Iran, at the moment: can you tell, lols? And the nuclear state thing is that there are nine countries, in the world, with nuclear weapons: America, Russia, England, France, China, India, Pakistan, Israel and North Korea. Although, I don't think Israel and North Korea are supposed to have any, they just do! And because Israel has nukes, Iran wants them too, but the UN won't let him, because he's a danger to EVERYONE, lols!

8. _At least mine isn't a half-Hungarian whose only 100 kilogram's away from being Napoleon with an Italian fetish!_ I really DO mean that: Nicolas Sarkozy is half Hungarian, whose father fled to France during the second world war, because of Nazi occupation. Plus, if you've heard the rumours, Sarkozy likes to ogle woman, and has an Italian wife, so yeah… Because of his height (his short, lols), and his womanizing – not to mention thing about conquering Europe _diplomatically_ – I see him as bit of a Napoleon, just not as fat…

9. Back when the UN was first established, France was the only country who did not vote for allowing England in, twice! DeGaulle claimed that England was too closely tied to America, but when he left office, President Alain Poher reversed his Anglophobic policies and allowed England into the UN. I think this is mentioned in the comic strip where France asks England to marry him. That was cool, love that strip ^_^

10. There's an article out there about Sarkozy insulting several other heads of state, including Germany's Angela Merkel. Of cause the guy didn't bag out the Italian one, since his wife is Italian :P

11. I figured France might have a bit of a father complex, like England has with America, since the Frenchman is older then England. I see him a bit of a big brother, or father, figure to England since 1066. I know it's a little off, but I figured the recent events screwed his mind a bit.

12. Ted Kennedy, like most of the Kennedy family it seems, is a Democratic politician who died very recently of a brain tumour. He was supposed to be a good man who supported Barack Obama. He was also one of the little brothers of John F. Kennedy, the President who was assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald.

13. About a week ago, an Australian ship was intercepted by Saudi Arabia, while on its way to Iran. Within it was suppose to be North Korean weapons and stuff, things that Iran isn't allowed to have since it's a threat to the rest of the Middle East (especially Israel). There's currently an investigation into it, and whether the Australian government knew about this or not – I don't know why'd they do it, but I guess anything's possible.

14. For those outside the realm, _The Ashes_ is the test-cricket league played between England and Australia. Australia has held the cup for, apparently, the last 29 years or something. This year, however, England has FINALLY come first in the cricket; though it's assumed that it's because the Australian team just got crappy this year… -_-

15. Yeah, I mentioned the marriage ^_^

_Anyway, hopefully that's solved a few questions that some of you might have had. If not, message me and I'll try to make it clearer._

_Oh, and I've been asked to add on to this, or add more chapters. I actually like this story, so I might extend it out more at a later date, such as making the chibi!England saga longer. But I haven't got enough time now, so it might have to wait until I finish some of my other stories before I come back to this._

_Hope you enjoyed this story, even though it's short… (I was sick of doing long lengthened stuff, so I made it only two chapters this time)…_


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